Overuse Threatens Florida Springs

Waters show signs of stagnation, pollution, algae blooms and saltiness.

Slimy green algae flows in the current in the main spring at the Silver Springs nature park on Wednesday July 25, 2012. Years of drought, nitrate pollution have reduced the flow and spawned lots of green and brown algae growth compromising water clarity and quality. (ALAN YOUNGBLOOD | OCALA STAR-BANNER)

By CRAIG PITTMANTAMPA BAY TIMES

Published: Saturday, November 24, 2012 at 10:51 p.m.

Last Modified: Saturday, November 24, 2012 at 10:51 p.m.

North of Gainesville, a church camp once attracted thousands of visitors because it was built around the gushing waters of Hornsby Springs. Then the spring stopped flowing and the camp had to spend more than $1 million to build a water park to replace it.

The old spring site is now so stagnant that it's frequently declared unfit for humans to swim in.

In Silver Springs, where the water was once so clear it was as if the fish swam through ­air, there are now goopy mats of algae so thick that alligators can perch atop them.

And in the Ocala National Forest, the gurgle of fresh water pouring out of popular Silver Glen Spring is slowly growing saltier.

Deep beneath the ground we stand on, below the strip malls and the condos and the lush green of the golf courses, runs a river of water that makes life in Florida possible. The underground aquifer rushes through Swiss cheese caverns, its hidden flow bubbling up to the surface in Florida's roughly 1,000 springs — the greatest concentration of springs on Earth.

A century ago Florida's gin-clear springs drew presidents and millionaires and tourists galore who sought to cure their ailments by bathing in the healing cascades. Now the springs tell the story of a hidden sickness, one that lies deep within the earth:

The water in many springs no longer boils up like a fountain, the way they have for centuries. The flow has slowed. In some places it has even stopped or begun flowing backward.

The water that does come out is polluted by nitrates.

The pollution fuels the growth of toxic algae blooms, which are taking over springs and the rivers they feed and putting human health at risk.

Finally, the fresh water coming out of many springs is showing signs of a ­growing

saltiness, according to a study by the Florida Geological Survey.

All of it — particularly the saltiness — is a dark omen for the future of the state's water supply.

"It's the very same water we drink that's coming out of the springs," said Doug Stamm, author of the book "Florida's Springs."

"When they start to deteriorate, that's the water we drink deteriorating too," he said.

Yet a state-sponsored effort to save the springs, launched by then-Gov. Jeb Bush 12 years ago, ended last year under Gov. Rick Scott. Groups drafting plans to restore some of the most important springs were disbanded because they lost their funding.

Faced with a backlash this year from Florida residents who cherish their springs, the state's top environmental regulator is now touting a renewed effort, even amid agency layoffs. But Bob Knight of the Florida Springs Institute in Gainesville says most of it appears to be "more in the category of pork barrel projects ... with questionable benefits to springs."

Springs once burbled up all across the state. But in South Florida they were wiped out decades ago by the ditching and draining of the landscape as well as overpumping of the aquifer. The ones that remain are in the less populated region north of Interstate 4. One former state official called them "the Everglades of North Florida."

As with the Everglades, the springs' problems begin with human alterations to their flow.

The water coming out of Florida's springs "is a blend of different ages," explained Brian Katz of the U.S. Geological Survey. "Some went in days or weeks ago," while some of it has been underground for decades.

That means that when the rain pours down, dribbling into fissures in the earth that connect to the aquifer, the springs appear to have a normal flow. It's water that just went into the ground and is now coming back out.

During the dry season, though, the older underground rivers that should keep the springs flowing year-round no longer spurt upward to become what Marjory Stoneman Douglas once called "bowls of liquid light."

Jason Polk, a geoscience professor at Western Kentucky University, has been diving in Florida's springs and sinkholes since 2004, doing research in underground caverns in Pasco, Hernando, Citrus and Marion counties. He has seen stark changes over the years.

"You go in a cave where there's no longer any water at all," he said. "Places you used to swim through, now you have to walk through. It's a permanent decline. It's just gone."

Where did it go? The evidence points to too much pumping of fresh water — millions of gallons a day sprayed on suburban lawns and farmers' fields, run through showers and flushed down toilets, turned into steam to crank turbines for electricity, or siphoned into plastic bottles for sale around the country.

Floridians use 158 gallons of water a day per person, about 50 more than the national average. Meanwhile agriculture draws more water out of the ground for irrigation than any state east of the Mississippi. As a result, between 1970 and 1995, withdrawals from the aquifer increased more than 50 percent and by 2005 hit 4.2 billion gallons a day.

As pumping grew, the flow from many springs fell. In 2006, one of the state's most powerful ones, Spring Creek Springs near Tallahassee, abruptly reversed its flow.

A troubling glimpse of the future comes from Hornsby Spring, northwest of Gainesville. In 1953, the Seventh-day Adventist Church bought it and built Camp Kulaqua on the 600 acres around it. The camp attracted 50,000 people a year, many of them eager to plunge into the spring's gushing depths.

But then the flow began slowing, and in 2003 it stopped.

"It became a stagnant pond," said camp director Phil Younts. The water quality fell below what the health department required for swimming, so "we had to bus kids to other places to swim."

Ultimately the camp paid $1.6 million to build a water park to replace the spring.

That hasn't happened to the biggest springs — yet. But Jeff Peterson, a cave diver who has explored many of the springs, has seen worrisome changes in Weeki Wachee Springs.

When he began exploring it in 1994, the flow was so powerful no diver could go very far. But around 2007 the pressure dropped to where exploration was so easy his team could go a mile down one tunnel.

When he hands his findings over to state water officials, he said, "They say thank you" but that's all. "They're trying to determine how much we can tolerate dragging that thing down before the ecosystem falls down."

While the Bush springs initiative was still alive, the Florida Geological Survey began pulling together its first comprehensive report on the subject in 30 years.

The report, which came out in 2009, surveyed data from 1991 to 2003. It documented the rise of pollution and the fall of flows. But the geologists didn't anticipate the most startling finding.

"The most unexpected conclusion," said Jonathan Arthur, the state's chief geologist, "was the saline indicators increasing in the springs."

This saltiness, similar to the saltwater intrusion that cost Pinellas County its original water supply wells in the 1980s, isn't just creeping in along the coast, such as in Chassahowitzka Springs and Homosassa Springs. It's also showing up far inland, including at Silver Glen Springs in Ocala National Forest.

"Saltwater encroachment is a hugely significant issue," the report noted, putting the words "hugely significant" in italics. It pointed out changing fresh water into salt water "can adversely affect the long-term term sustainability of Florida's water resources."

<p>North of Gainesville, a church camp once attracted thousands of visitors because it was built around the gushing waters of Hornsby Springs. Then the spring stopped flowing and the camp had to spend more than $1 million to build a water park to replace it. </p><p>The old spring site is now so stagnant that it's frequently declared unfit for humans to swim in. </p><p>In Silver Springs, where the water was once so clear it was as if the fish swam through ­air, there are now goopy mats of algae so thick that alligators can perch atop them. </p><p>And in the Ocala National Forest, the gurgle of fresh water pouring out of popular Silver Glen Spring is slowly growing saltier. </p><p>Deep beneath the ground we stand on, below the strip malls and the condos and the lush green of the golf courses, runs a river of water that makes life in Florida possible. The underground aquifer rushes through Swiss cheese caverns, its hidden flow bubbling up to the surface in Florida's roughly 1,000 springs — the greatest concentration of springs on Earth.</p><p>A century ago Florida's gin-clear springs drew presidents and millionaires and tourists galore who sought to cure their ailments by bathing in the healing cascades. Now the springs tell the story of a hidden sickness, one that lies deep within the earth:</p><p>The water in many springs no longer boils up like a fountain, the way they have for centuries. The flow has slowed. In some places it has even stopped or begun flowing backward.</p><p>The water that does come out is polluted by nitrates.</p><p>The pollution fuels the growth of toxic algae blooms, which are taking over springs and the rivers they feed and putting human health at risk.</p><p>Finally, the fresh water coming out of many springs is showing signs of a ­growing </p><p>saltiness, according to a study by the Florida Geological Survey.</p><p>All of it — particularly the saltiness — is a dark omen for the future of the state's water supply.</p><p>"It's the very same water we drink that's coming out of the springs," said Doug Stamm, author of the book "Florida's Springs." </p><p>"When they start to deteriorate, that's the water we drink deteriorating too," he said.</p><p>Yet a state-sponsored effort to save the springs, launched by then-Gov. Jeb Bush 12 years ago, ended last year under Gov. Rick Scott. Groups drafting plans to restore some of the most important springs were disbanded because they lost their funding.</p><p>Faced with a backlash this year from Florida residents who cherish their springs, the state's top environmental regulator is now touting a renewed effort, even amid agency layoffs. But Bob Knight of the Florida Springs Institute in Gainesville says most of it appears to be "more in the category of pork barrel projects ... with questionable benefits to springs."</p><p>Springs once burbled up all across the state. But in South Florida they were wiped out decades ago by the ditching and draining of the landscape as well as overpumping of the aquifer. The ones that remain are in the less populated region north of Interstate 4. One former state official called them "the Everglades of North Florida."</p><p>As with the Everglades, the springs' problems begin with human alterations to their flow.</p><p>The water coming out of Florida's springs "is a blend of different ages," explained Brian Katz of the U.S. Geological Survey. "Some went in days or weeks ago," while some of it has been underground for decades.</p><p>That means that when the rain pours down, dribbling into fissures in the earth that connect to the aquifer, the springs appear to have a normal flow. It's water that just went into the ground and is now coming back out.</p><p>During the dry season, though, the older underground rivers that should keep the springs flowing year-round no longer spurt upward to become what Marjory Stoneman Douglas once called "bowls of liquid light."</p><p>Jason Polk, a geoscience professor at Western Kentucky University, has been diving in Florida's springs and sinkholes since 2004, doing research in underground caverns in Pasco, Hernando, Citrus and Marion counties. He has seen stark changes over the years.</p><p>"You go in a cave where there's no longer any water at all," he said. "Places you used to swim through, now you have to walk through. It's a permanent decline. It's just gone."</p><p>Where did it go? The evidence points to too much pumping of fresh water — millions of gallons a day sprayed on suburban lawns and farmers' fields, run through showers and flushed down toilets, turned into steam to crank turbines for electricity, or siphoned into plastic bottles for sale around the country.</p><p>Floridians use 158 gallons of water a day per person, about 50 more than the national average. Meanwhile agriculture draws more water out of the ground for irrigation than any state east of the Mississippi. As a result, between 1970 and 1995, withdrawals from the aquifer increased more than 50 percent and by 2005 hit 4.2 billion gallons a day.</p><p>As pumping grew, the flow from many springs fell. In 2006, one of the state's most powerful ones, Spring Creek Springs near Tallahassee, abruptly reversed its flow.</p><p>A troubling glimpse of the future comes from Hornsby Spring, northwest of Gainesville. In 1953, the Seventh-day Adventist Church bought it and built Camp Kulaqua on the 600 acres around it. The camp attracted 50,000 people a year, many of them eager to plunge into the spring's gushing depths.</p><p>But then the flow began slowing, and in 2003 it stopped.</p><p>"It became a stagnant pond," said camp director Phil Younts. The water quality fell below what the health department required for swimming, so "we had to bus kids to other places to swim."</p><p>Ultimately the camp paid $1.6 million to build a water park to replace the spring. </p><p>That hasn't happened to the biggest springs — yet. But Jeff Peterson, a cave diver who has explored many of the springs, has seen worrisome changes in Weeki Wachee Springs.</p><p>When he began exploring it in 1994, the flow was so powerful no diver could go very far. But around 2007 the pressure dropped to where exploration was so easy his team could go a mile down one tunnel.</p><p>When he hands his findings over to state water officials, he said, "They say thank you" but that's all. "They're trying to determine how much we can tolerate dragging that thing down before the ecosystem falls down."</p><p>While the Bush springs initiative was still alive, the Florida Geological Survey began pulling together its first comprehensive report on the subject in 30 years.</p><p>The report, which came out in 2009, surveyed data from 1991 to 2003. It documented the rise of pollution and the fall of flows. But the geologists didn't anticipate the most startling finding.</p><p>"The most unexpected conclusion," said Jonathan Arthur, the state's chief geologist, "was the saline indicators increasing in the springs."</p><p>This saltiness, similar to the saltwater intrusion that cost Pinellas County its original water supply wells in the 1980s, isn't just creeping in along the coast, such as in Chassahowitzka Springs and Homosassa Springs. It's also showing up far inland, including at Silver Glen Springs in Ocala National Forest.</p><p>"Saltwater encroachment is a hugely significant issue," the report noted, putting the words "hugely significant" in italics. It pointed out changing fresh water into salt water "can adversely affect the long-term term sustainability of Florida's water resources."</p>